


Where We Left Off

by glitterandgin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reconciliation, Reunions, Romance, bipolar!Anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:56:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandgin/pseuds/glitterandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle with Meredith, Anders runs off with Nathaniel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He thought he’d seen glimpses of him during the battle, but he hadn’t dared hoped. They’d parted ways in the Deep Roads, after all; what were the chances that Nathaniel would stay so close to Kirkwall after his business there was concluded? But as the adrenaline slowly wore off, he couldn’t deny the fact that Nathaniel Howe was standing just a few yards away from him, talking to another Grey Warden.

It would be all too easy to slip away without acknowledging him, too easy to disappear before he had a chance to see the anger and disappointment on Nathaniel’s face when he learned what he’d done. But something--a quickly deteriorating sense of self-preservation, perhaps--kept him rooted to the spot until Nathaniel walked over to him.

“No escaping me, I’m afraid,” Anders said, echoing Nathaniel’s words from the Deep Roads.  He knew his smile was weaker than Corff’s brew, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Nathaniel’s smile was just as weak. “It looks like.”

Anders cleared his throat. “I guess--”

“I should--”

“You first,” they said in unison.

“I should go,” Nathaniel said, staring at Anders’ lips. “The Wardens are leaving soon.”

“Right,” Anders said, his smile fading like the last frost before spring. This was probably the last time he’d see Nathaniel again, and each passing second seemed to decrease his lung capacity until he was barely breathing at all. “They need to get back to shirt-stuffing, I suppose.”

“You could come with me,” he said, and Anders wasn’t sure he’d ever looked so sincere in all the years they’d known each other. “We could use a healer, and it hasn’t been the same since you left.”

Anders’ capacity for speech sunk down to somewhere near his liver. He thought about Hawke. She’d decided to withhold judgement until after they’d dealt with Meredith; how would she react if he left abruptly? Was it right to do so? He’d have to face the repercussions of his actions sooner or later, and it would be wrong to drag Nathaniel down with him. Better to stay here and take what punishment awaited him than--

But then Nathaniel took his hand, and his thoughts went the way of his ability to speak. He licked his lips, transfixed by the way Nathaniel’s fingers intertwined with his own. They fit together like pieces of a broken mosaic, like the notes in a chord, like he’d never left at all.  

“Come with me, Anders,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Please?”

Anders nodded, still mute as Nathaniel led him away to where the Wardens waited for them.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

None of the other Wardens appeared to recognise him. Anders couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, it meant he had a better chance of disappearing entirely, since none of them seemed particularly interested in him at the moment. On the other, it meant the chances of anyone sticking up for him in a tight spot were horrifyingly slim. As they boarded the ship, Anders tried not to imagine the inevitable scene that awaited him in Amaranthine.

Any opportunity to fret was immediately displaced by the fact that Nathaniel’s grip on his hand now threatened to fracture at least one of his bones. When Anders looked over at him, he’d broken into a thin sweat and he could practically hear his teeth grinding together.

“Nate?” Anders said, extricating his hand from Nathaniel’s and wrapping it around his shoulders. Nathaniel leaned into the half-embrace.

“I don’t like boats,” he said, his voice choked as though he were already struggling to keep from being sick. “I never have.”

Anders kissed Nathaniel’s cheek, then froze, his lips centimetres away from Nathaniel’s flesh. Nathaniel had asked him to return to the Grey Wardens, but that in no way meant that he wanted to rekindle their relationship. For all he knew, Nathaniel might have found someone else during his absence. He held his breath, waiting for some reaction from Nathaniel.

Nathaniel smiled tensely. “Thank you.”

They sat side by side in the hold, Nathaniel pressed against Anders so much that he seemed seconds away from climbing into his lap. As the ship set sail, Anders stroked Nathaniel’s hair and whispered whatever comforting thoughts sprang to his mind, mostly promises that they’d be fine.

A particularly strong wave rocked the boat, and Nathaniel let out a sharp, strangled scream. Anders pulled him closer and pressed his face to his scalp as much for his benefit as Nathaniel’s. Nathaniel slumped into the embrace, his breath warm and tickly on Anders’ neck.

Nathaniel made a small noise of frustration.

“You’re fine,” Anders said into Nathaniel’s hair, rubbing his back with one hand. “Even the great Nathaniel Howe’s allowed to be scared. We’ll be there soon, and you’ll never have to set foot on a ship again.”

“Now that you’ve said that, I’ll probably end up being impressed into indentured servitude on some half-sunk ship,” Nathaniel said, and he almost managed to sound normal.

Anders squeezed his shoulder. “If that happens, I promise to wait by the docks every day, waving a white handkerchief while I wonder when you’ll return.”

He snorted, though even that sounded strained. “I missed you.”

Anders kissed his head, smiling a little at the fact that Nathaniel smelled the same as he had all those years ago. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the combination of sandalwood and leather until now. “I missed you, too.”

By the time they arrived in Ferelden, Nathaniel had calmed slightly, though he remained huddled against Anders’ side until it was clear that the boat had moored. As they stumbled sea-drunk into Amaranthine, they held hands once more, and it was the most peaceful Anders had felt in eight years. 


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, that meant the peace he felt would be shattered the moment he set foot in Vigil’s Keep.

Four templars stood within the courtyard, kitted out in full regalia so there could be no mistaking their identity. If they recognised him, it was impossible to tell through those ridiculous helmets they wore. It might have been his imagination, but Anders was certain he saw one’s posture stiffen as he walked through the gate.

There was a time when the sight of four templars would have filled him with the sudden and pressing need to be anywhere else in Thedas. And somewhere, buried under seven layers of anger and exhaustion, the need still existed. _Just another sign that I’m still weak._ He swallowed his anger, which burned in his throat like bile, and allowed Nathaniel to lead him past the templars without incident.

When they entered the keep, the weight of his actions landed on his head once more, threatening to grind his spine into a fine dust. Even if--and it was more unlikely than a sober Oghren--the Wardens decided to accept him again, they’d undoubtedly find him too much of a liability once news of what he’d done spread. He was lucky the Commander had kept him around so long before; he’d completely destroyed any chance of that happening a second time.

Nathaniel looked over at him, frowning slightly. “You must be exhausted. Your room is still vacant; I’ll take you there.”

Anders smiled and nodded, letting Nathaniel guide him through halls that seemed both familiar and strange at once. He’d given up on ever seeing them again, and his return left him off-balance and filled him with a vague sense of unease.

Nathaniel opened the door to his room--just down the hall from Nathaniel’s, that was right--and waited until he was inside to follow, closing the door behind him. Anders was about to collapse on the bed and try his hardest to forget the events of the past few days when a bundle of orange crawled out from under the bed and brushed against his leg.

A sudden wave of energy surged through him as he lifted the cat into his arms. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t care.

“You took care of him,” he said, his voice shaking until he could barely understand his own words.

“Of course I did,” Nathaniel said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

Anders shook his head, both as an answer and in unspeakable disbelief that Ser Pounce-a-Lot was still alive and well. Bigger, yes, and older, but _alive_ and purring in his arms. It was too much to bear. With a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a sigh, he sank to the bed and lay down, Ser Pounce-a-Lot purring on his chest.

“Should I go?”

Anders shook his head, and Nathaniel climbed into bed beside him, draping an arm across him to rest his hand on his hip. Anders closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he awoke, Ser Pounce-a-Lot was still on top of him, but Nathaniel was gone. Anders moved the cat from his chest, sat up and stretched, and went to search for him.

He’d reached the throne room when he saw him engaged in what looked to be a friendly conversation with one of the templars. Rage crackled inside of him, and he marched to Nathaniel’s side, hoping for both of their sakes that he’d misread the tone of the conversation.

Nathaniel smiled at him and placed a hand on the small of his back. “This is Anders, a fellow Grey Warden. He recently returned from Kirkwall.”

The templar smiled at him, an expression as pleasant and welcoming as a tar pit. “I think I remember you. Kinloch Hold, yes?”

Anders nodded, and he could feel Justice buzzing just under his skin, desperate to be let out. He gritted his teeth and stayed silent, waiting to see where the conversation progressed.

Nathaniel began rubbing circles into the small of Anders’ back, a calming tactic that had always worked in the past. Despite himself, Anders relaxed slightly.

The templar--Ser Warton, that was his name--smiled wider. “I’m sure it will be a pleasure working with you, Anders.”

“I’ve seen your idea of ‘pleasure’. You can shove it up your arse,” Anders said with a brittle, bitter smile.

Ser Warton sneered and walked off, deliberately bumping into Anders on his way past.

Nathaniel frowned. “That was unnecessary.”

“Templars are unnecessary,” Anders said, crossing his arms. “Templars in the Grey Wardens are especially unnecessary. What I said was completely warranted.”

“They’re working with the Wardens now, Anders. It’s different,” Nathaniel said, still rubbing Anders’ back. The action had the opposite of its intended effect this time.

Anders’ hands shook as he said, “How can you say that after all they’ve done--after all they do? I was a fool to think anything had changed.”

He spun on his heel and stalked off to his room, ignoring Nathaniel’s calls for him to come back. 


	4. Chapter 4

Anders spent the next four days socializing as little as possible. Except for the fact that he had a real bed and Ser Pounce-a-Lot, it was almost like he was still in Kirkwall. Every sound in the hallway sent a sharp bolt of panic through his body, which refused to let him sleep for more than two consecutive hours at a time. His stomach twisted into knots every time he ate, and he felt himself sinking into a mood as bleak and impenetrable as Kinloch Hold’s dungeons. He knew social interaction would have at least a minor positive effect on the last problem, but his mood discouraged him from seeking company for fear of immediately driving them away. When he was forced to leave his room, he kept his eyes downcast and directed his dwindling energy towards listening for sounds of approaching templars. It was only a matter of time until they found some flimsy excuse to harass him, after all.

He wasn’t disappointed. As he returned from another exciting breakfast where he and the other Wardens honoured their tacit agreement to pretend he didn’t exist, Ser Warton stopped him just outside of his room.

“You caught me,” Anders said, proud that he was able to summon enough energy to sound the proper combination of irritated and sarcastic. “I was just about to summon the Great Demon and dance naked in the courtyard.”

Ser Warton curled his lip. “You still haven’t learned how to treat your betters after all these years? I wish I was surprised.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “You _might_ be better than a genlock on a good day, if you were lucky and the genlock was especially bad. Do you mind? I need to do literally anything besides talk to you.”

Ser Warton moved so he completely blocked the door to Anders’ chambers. “I think you need to be taught a lesson, mage.”

Warton’s hands glowed blue, and the terrifying numbness of being cut off from the Fade engulfed Anders. It was like being suspended underwater while blindfolded and gagged. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Clutching at his throat and eyes widening, Anders sank to the floor and struggled to breathe. The edges of his vision darkened, and his ears rang as four sleepless nights combined with panic to create all-encompassing faintness. Just as he was about to pass out, someone stopped and stood next to him.

It was difficult to hear what was said, but his saviour sounded angry and Ser Warton slunk off after the exchange. As Anders slowly found himself able to breathe again, Nathaniel helped him to his feet.

“Are you all right?” Nathaniel said, staring deep into his eyes and placing a hand on his hip.

More than anything, he wanted to reply, but each attempt to make even the smallest sound was met with frustration and silence.

Nathaniel frowned and removed his hands from him. “Really? The silent treatment?”

Anders shook his head and opened his mouth, but Nathaniel had already turned away from him. Wishing he could call Nathaniel back to him, Anders turned and entered his room, locking the door behind him. When he regained the ability to speak, Anders pressed a pillow to his face and screamed as loud as he could. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Anders?”

He moaned into his pillow and pulled the blankets up so that they covered his head, hoping the non-answer would discourage any further attempts at communication.

Nathaniel tugged the blankets down so that Anders could see him. It might have been wishful thinking, but he looked vaguely worried. He said, “The Warden-Commander says you haven’t been socializing much.”

“I didn’t know that was a crime,” Anders said, and if he snapped, it was the snap of a wounded animal that knows it’s too weak to fight but hopes that it can still scare others away.

“I haven’t seen you in the dining hall lately.”

“Ah, this must be the part where we list all my wrongs. Here, let me help: there’s the chantry incident, being a mage in general, daring to be angry about how I’m treated--”

“Anders,” Nathaniel said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m sure you can think of better ways to spend your time,” he said, trying to pull the blankets back over his head. Nathaniel held them in place.

“I want to help you.” He squeezed Anders’ shoulder gently before moving his hand up to stroke his cheek. “What can I do?”

Anders exhaled, and it felt like it was his last breath. Nathaniel would refuse, would be right to refuse, but he had to ask. “Could you hold me?”

Nathaniel nodded and climbed into bed beside him, pulling him close to his chest. As Anders buried his face in his shoulder, Nathaniel stroked his hair and back in silence.

Anders lifted his head to look Nathaniel in the eye. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Nathaniel furrowed his brow and ran his fingers through Anders’ hair, gently untangling the knots that had formed from his time spent in bed. “I was never mad at you.”

“You should have been. I left, and then there was the chantry, and that templar, and--why aren’t you mad at me?”

Nathaniel kissed his forehead. “We’ll talk about the chantry later, when you’re feeling better. I’m not mad at you, Anders. Just worried.”

Anders sniffled and burrowed closer to Nathaniel, who rubbed his back until he fell asleep.

#

“How are you feeling?” Nathaniel said as Anders awoke still wrapped in his arms.

Anders shrugged, and for the first time in days he felt a stirring of emotion. Given ample time and tea, he might eventually manage a genuine smile. “I’ve been worse.”

Nathaniel tilted Anders’ chin up and kissed him gently, as though he were afraid he would disappear at any moment. Anders closed his eyes and sighed into the kiss, which was as soft and sleepy as a Saturday morning.

Nathaniel pulled away with a smile. “I’ve waited eight years to do that again.”

Anders felt the left corner of his mouth pull upwards just a tad. “I suppose we have a lot of time to make up for, then.”

“That we do,” Nathaniel said before kissing him as though the action could turn back time.

As they spent the rest of the day entwined in bed, Anders almost believed it had.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, Justice,” Anders said as he and Nathaniel sat on his bed. His mood was slowly climbing back to normal, which meant the conversation was inevitable. He might as well have it start on his own terms. “I imagine you want to know why I did it.”

Nathaniel took his hands, rubbing his wrists with his thumbs. “I am a little curious.”

Anders sighed and closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was as flat and emotionless as a tombstone. “Kristoff’s body was weak beyond repair. We weren’t sure what would happen to him once Kristoff was completely gone, and--surely you understand. He was your friend, too. And he convinced me I could make a change in the world. I’d never believed that until him.”

Nathaniel had stopped massaging his wrists halfway through his speech. Instead, he held Anders’ hands with the lightest of touches. It was a wonder Nathaniel was touching him at all, Anders thought. He’d have to cherish it while it lasted.

“But he changed. I changed him. He’s a demon now, and it’s my fault. I can’t even be sure if I’m still me, or what’s real or imagined. You’ve seen my moods. I think I might be going crazy,” he concluded, shaking his head slightly.

Nathaniel released his hands and grabbed his shoulders, prompting him to open his eyes and look up. “You’re not crazy, and I’ve seen nothing to indicate that you’re anything besides yourself. And I trust both of you enough that I won’t believe Justice is a demon until I see proof.”

Anders, who was about to speak, stopped with his lips parted slightly. He blinked, waiting for Nathaniel to say something to negate his words. As lightly as he could manage, he said, “You know, now’s usually the time when someone calls me an abomination or says I deserve to die.”

Nathaniel looked physically pained. “You honestly believe I would say that?”

Anders shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first person I loved to do so.”

Anger flared in Nathaniel’s eyes before he embraced Anders, pressing his face to his hair and whispering, “Whoever they were, they were lying.”


	7. Chapter 7

“It’s my fault, you know.”

Anders looked up from his book, brow furrowed. For the first time in years, he had actual downtime until the Wardens decided they could trust him not to run off in the middle of a mission. It was a little disconcerting, and he couldn’t help but think of how his relaxation time could be better spent furthering the cause, but it still took most of his energy to drag himself down to the dining hall. He couldn’t trust himself to do more until he knew he’d have the strength to stay in control of his actions. “I’m sorry?”

Nathaniel shifted in the bed so he was facing Anders. “Justice. It’s my fault you merged. I asked if he’d considered taking a living host. I doubt he would have joined with you if I hadn’t given him the idea.”

Anders put down his book and took Nathaniel’s hand. “I made the decision to take him in. It’s my fault, Nate, and nobody else’s.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “You can’t take all the blame for it.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Are you honestly going to give me a ‘sharing is caring’ speech about taking the blame for demonic possession?”

Nathaniel’s frown deepened. Anders continued, “I know you say he’s not a demon, but you haven’t seen him. You don’t know what he’s--what we’ve done.”

“Could I speak to him?”

It was like Nathaniel had spoken in Qunlat. The noises were there, and he could identify them as human speech, but for the life of him he couldn’t translate them into comprehensible words. He closed his eyes, afraid of what would happen if he made eye contact with Nathaniel. In whisper’s smaller sibling, he said, “What if he hurts you? I couldn’t bear it if--”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Nathaniel said, and he must have leaned in closer, because Anders could feel his breath on his lips. Nathaniel kissed him, as gentle and insistent as his words.

Eyes still closed, Anders nodded. “I’ll do it for you.”

#

Anders pulled on his coat and tied his hair back. “After all,” he’d said with a half-smile. “If I go crazy and you have to stab me, I’d like to look good when I die.” Nathaniel hadn’t been amused.

He took a deep breath and pulled Nathaniel into a kiss, hoping his action could convey the way his heart ached with love whenever they touched. At that particular moment, his heart hurt so much that he thought it might stop beating entirely. As Nathaniel clutched at the fabric of his coat, Anders thought that it might not be such a bad thing if he died at that moment.

They separated, and Nathaniel tugged Anders’ coat back into place.

“Might as well get this over with,” Anders said, trying to sound nonchalant. He wound up sounding resigned.

He closed his eyes and waited as the ozone smell of the Fade slowly filled the room. When he opened his eyes again, it was like he was watching himself from a point just outside of his body. Before the typical panic had a chance to set in, a wave of calming energy washed over him. His lips prickled as he spoke.

“Nathaniel.”

“Justice.”

Anders felt his head nod, a short, crisp motion. “You wish to know if I have become a demon.”

“It seems a fair question,” Nathaniel said, and Anders had to push past the artificial calm to hear how strained Nathaniel’s voice was. He only had a second to ponder that before the calm engulfed him once more. Having peacefulness forced on him was almost enough to make him anxious. If he’d had control of his body, he would have laughed at the thought.

“It is… complicated. I am not a demon, but I have changed. I feel. Somehow I am more and less than I was before. It is perplexing. I never wanted this.”

Nathaniel took his hands, and it was like lightning bolts shot up from his fingers to his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded once more, and then the artificial calm slowly ebbed away as Anders regained control of himself. He swayed a little, leaning forward until Nathaniel supported some of his weight. “I hope that helped you feel better, because I need to sleep for the next two months.”

Nathaniel wrapped an arm around him and helped him to the bed. As he climbed into bed and pulled the covers up around them, he kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

When Anders woke, it was like the windows of his mind had been cleaned, finally letting the sun through. He rolled over and draped himself over Nathaniel, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. Lying there unnoticed by the rest of the world, it almost seemed possible that he and Nathaniel could live happily together.

Nathaniel stirred and threaded his fingers through his hair, rubbing Anders’ scalp gently. “How are you feeling?”

Anders lifted his head, allowing Nathaniel to see his eyes. He’d always remarked that they looked like Anders was suffering from the flu whenever he was depressed.

Nathaniel smiled and sat up just enough to kiss him. “I’m glad.”

“You know,” Anders said, propping himself up on one arm. “We never properly celebrated our reunion.”

Nathaniel sat up a little more, shifting Anders so he was straddling Nathaniel’s lap. “You do have a point.”

“And I’m sure I owe you at least one round of ‘I’m furious that you left without saying anything’ sex,” Anders said, grinding against him. Nathaniel gasped and clutched Anders’ hips.

“I already said I’m not angry--”

Anders kissed his nose. “We can pretend. Ooh, role-playing and angry sex at the same time. All we need now is a parrot that shrieks obscenities, and it will be just like that time in Denerim.”

“I think we can live without re-enacting that,” Nathaniel said with a smile. “You really are feeling better, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

Nathaniel shifted his grip lower to squeeze his ass, and Anders kissed him, moaning into his mouth as he tangled his fingers in Nathaniel’s hair.

“So, which do you want to do first--fake angry sex, or reunion sex?”

Nathaniel snaked his hand under Anders’ coat and ran a fingernail down his spine. Anders shuddered, rocking against him.

“I’m too groggy to feign anger right now.”

Anders moved as though he were going to climb off of him. “I didn’t realise you were still tired. Here, I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

Nathaniel’s grip on him tightened. “Don’t you dare move.”

“Not even to get undressed?”

Nathaniel’s expression could have evaporated the Waking Sea. “Nobody likes a smartass, Anders.”

“Mm, I have strong evidence proving you wrong,” Anders said, rocking against him again. The fingernail on his spine scratched just a tad harder, and his hips stuttered.

Nathaniel began fiddling with the clasps on Anders’ coat, undoing them after a few tries. He pushed the coat off Anders’ shoulders, letting it land on the ground with a dull thump of cloth and metal. He ran his hands over Anders’ torso, frowning slightly as he felt his ribs. Anders looked away, embarrassed, but then Nathaniel kissed the dip in his collarbone and began tugging at his trousers.

When they’d completely disrobed, Anders resumed straddling Nathaniel, bringing one of his hands to his mouth and kissing his fingertips. Nathaniel ran a finger across his bottom lip, the pad catching slightly in the centre of his lip. Anders sucked on it, revelling in the way Nathaniel’s jaw slackened as he ran his tongue over his fingertip.

“We’ll need--” Nathaniel said before Anders silenced him with a kiss.

“I have it covered,” he said, conjuring a small amount of grease onto Nathaniel’s hand. He guided it between his legs and let his eyes flutter shut as Nathaniel gently pressed a finger inside, taking his sweet time before adding another.

They started off slow, taking time to relearn each other’s bodies and savour the sensation of being close once again. As time passed, however, their actions grew more frantic as years of pent-up passion spilled out in one act. By the end, it was a beautiful combination of messy, desperate kisses and hands that clutched with just the right amount of pressure.

Anders collapsed on Nathaniel’s chest, exhausted and giddy. “You’re perfect.”

Nathaniel wrapped his arms around Anders, running his fingers over the light scratches he’d made. “Don’t ever leave again.”

“Course I won’t,” Anders said, yawning and kissing Nathaniel’s nose. “You still owe me fake angry sex.”


	9. Chapter 9

“I want to know why you did it,” Nathaniel said, and Anders felt a yawning pit of resignation reopen in the bottom of his stomach. “The Chantry.”

Anders tried to get up from where he’d been draped across Nathaniel, but he was held tight. Relaxing back into the embrace, he said, “You weren’t there; I don’t expect you to understand. You didn’t see how mages were treated. I had a… friend. Karl. He was a Harrowed mage, and they made him tranquil as a warning to the others. He wasn’t the only one.

“For eight years, I tried to change things peacefully. I petitioned the Grand Cleric; I helped mages escape the Gallows when I could. But Justice was getting impatient. I was getting impatient. Things were getting worse. Meredith saw blood mages where they weren’t, and she was looking for an excuse to annul the Circle. I had to do something. Like I said, I don’t expect you to understand.”

Nathaniel’s grip on him had tightened as he spoke. When Nathaniel spoke, his voice was almost too measured. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

Anders swallowed. Part of him wanted to joke about angry sex, but it wasn’t a large enough part for the idea to seem promising. He nodded. “I’ve struck a blow for mages everywhere. It had to be done, Nate. The world can’t ignore us any longer.”

“You’ve made mages more of a target than ever,” Nathaniel said, hints of anger cracking through his veneer of calm.

“We were already targets,” Anders said, voice shaking ever so slightly. “Whenever something went wrong, everyone blamed mages. I had to show the world that we wouldn’t accept that.”

“By blowing up the Chantry,” Nathaniel said, and his voice had slipped back into careful, worrying neutrality. “You’re right, Anders. I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all.”

He let go of Anders, gently nudging him aside so he could climb out of bed. He strode across the room, stopping at the door when Anders got up.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to think,” Nathaniel said, still frighteningly flat in tone. “I’ll be back.”

Anders sank back onto the bed, nodding. “I understand.”

#

Anders got dressed and wandered Vigil’s Keep, occasionally stopping to talk with some of the Warden recruits. Maker, they were young. One of them, a fellow mage, barely looked old enough to have taken her Harrowing. Maybe she hadn’t. It didn’t particularly matter, he supposed, since the likelihood of him being trusted beyond the walls of the keep--let alone on a patrol with the other Wardens--was still painfully slim, regardless of how well he behaved. It was like being trapped in the tower again, complete with templars. And speaking of templars…

Ser Warton clanked his way to Anders’ side, practically shoving the mage recruit out of his way in the process.

Anders rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m still not a blood mage, and you’re still ugly.”

“You’re worse than a blood mage, I’ve heard,” Ser Warton said, stepping closer. Anders found himself faced with the choice of being cornered against a wall or having to bear the full impact of Warton’s breath. He chose the wall. Wharton continued, “Word of what you did in Kirkwall is starting to spread. Do you honestly think your precious Warden Commander will stick up for you once she finds out?”

Anders tried to think of a witty retort. He settled for glaring at him.

Warton laughed. “If you turn yourself in now, they might be kind enough to kill you. I’m sure there are plenty of us who’d pay to see you made tranquil.”

Justice roared in the back of his mind, all fury and protective instincts. Anders swallowed the terror and anger that had lodged themselves in his mouth and said, “Is that your idea of a threat? I heard worse than that from my father when I was a child.”

“Not a threat,” Warton said, smiling in only the most generous sense of the word. “Just a statement of facts. Howe can only protect you for so long before he decides you’re not worth it. And it looks like he’ll decide that pretty soon.”

Anders pushed past him, fully aware of the fact that Warton had allowed him to do so.

Warton called after him, “You can’t fuck your way to safety this time, Anders.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Where are you going?”

Anders gave a startled cry and dropped his pack. Clutching his heart, he turned to face Nathaniel. “I’m leaving.”

“I can see that,” Nathaniel said, crossing his arms. “Why?”

Anders gestured in an attempt to convey that it’d be easier to list the reasons why he _should_ stay. There was really only one, and it started with an ‘n’. “It’s… It’s not safe. For anyone. Word’s starting to spread, and I can’t drag anyone else down with me. It’s not fair to hide behind you or the Wardens.”

“Right, letting people help you is hiding behind them. It’s cowardly to stay with the man who loves you,” Nathaniel said, his voice growing louder with each word.

“Oh, you’d prefer I bring a war to your doorstep? You’d like to fight off templars--and they wouldn’t be the only ones--every second of the day?” Anders said, matching Nathaniel’s volume. His shoulders sank as he said, “Let’s face it, Nathaniel--you deserve better than that.”

“And I suppose what I want doesn’t factor into this,” he said, stepping closer to Anders. “You think it’d be better for me to stay here, wondering every day if I’ll even know if you’ve been killed?”

“Better than becoming a fugitive for no reason? Yes,” Anders said, hands shaking at his sides. Why couldn’t Nathaniel just let the issue go? He forced himself to maintain eye contact with Nathaniel, whose eyes shone in the dim light. “It’s better for--”

Nathaniel pushed him up against the wall, crushing his lips against his. Anders’ exclamation of surprise was muffled by the kiss as Nathaniel tugged the tie out of his hair and twisted his hair around his fingers, tugging just hard enough to stay on the right side of painful.  Anders wrapped a leg around him and clutched Nathaniel’s sleeping tunic, leaving wrinkles in the fabric.

Nathaniel pulled back just enough to speak, their faces still close enough that Anders could feel the words hit his lips. “Is it still better if you leave?”

Anders prepared to argue, but Nathaniel kissed him again, and all the words flew out of his mind. He found himself kissing back, tangling his fingers in Nathaniel’s hair as he attempted to pull him closer.

Nathaniel extricated himself from Anders’ grasp, taking his arm and leading him to his chambers. He locked the door behind them.

“How dare you try to leave without telling me?” he said, punctuating every third word with a kiss.

Anders nipped his lip and said, “It’s safer if I go.”

“Not for you,” Nathaniel said, undoing the buckles on his coat.

“I’m not as imp--” Anders said before Nathaniel silenced him once again with a kiss, all fire and fury and a love bright enough to blind.

“Don’t you dare,” Nathaniel said before shucking off his trousers. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Anders followed suit and bent over the desk, shrugging off his coat on his way over. As Nathaniel fished in the desk drawers for oil, Anders scrambled for better arguments. All hopes of finding one vanished when Nathaniel pressed a finger inside of him with just enough force to indicate that their conversation was far from over.

Anders gasped as Nathaniel pushed in, as much from the sensation as from hearing the words, “Losing you once nearly destroyed me. I won’t let it happen again.”

He set a fast, brutal pace, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise as though he could convince Anders to stay in Vigil’s Keep through that simple action. Anders clutched the edges of the desk, held in place as much by Nathaniel’s words as by his hands, and moaned low in his throat. Each thrust chipped away at Anders’ resolve until there was nothing left but this perfect moment with Nathaniel, where all he could do was gasp and take what he was given. If his actions were any indication, Nathaniel wanted to give him the world. Nathaniel kissed the side of Anders’ neck as he came, his fingers sliding on the smooth surface of the desk. Nathaniel followed shortly after, his grip tightening until it was almost unbearable.

Nathaniel rubbed his hips apologetically as he pulled out, kissing his neck again. “I’m coming with you.”

“Didn’t you just do that?” Anders said breathlessly. He shook hair out of his face and said, “I suppose there’s nothing I could say to convince you otherwise.”

Nathaniel just looked at him with an expression that stated the future with the unwavering certainty of the stars.

Anders nodded and kissed him lightly on the lips, the promise of more lingering in the space between them. “I’ll leave you to pack, then. Meet me in my chambers when you’re ready.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Do you have a destination in mind?” Nathaniel said as they crept out of the fortress.

“I was mostly thinking ‘away from anyone I cared about’, but that doesn’t seem plausible at this point,” Anders said, taking Nathaniel’s hand. The solid warmth of it untangled the knot of anxiety building in his stomach enough for him to try formulating a plan that consisted of more than “run in the first direction you see and don’t stop”. In his pack, Ser Pounce-a-Lot squirmed.

Nathaniel squeezed his hand. “We need to go someplace politically neutral.”

“Well, there go my plans of moving to Orlais,” Anders said as they stopped to look at the map. “I was so excited to change my name to Monsieur Tartuffle, too.”

“I don’t think that’s a real name,” Nathaniel said, the corners of his mouth curving upwards slightly. The smile died quickly afterwards as he studied the map. In a tone that implied he had to choose between death by dismemberment or an endless rendition of Oghren’s tavern medley, he said, “Llomerryn’s neutral.”

“We don’t have to--”

“Given that our other options involve the Deep Roads or converting to the Qun, we really don’t have much of a choice,” Nathaniel said, folding up the map and stuffing it in his pack as though it had personally offended him.

“We could live in the wilderness,” Anders said, pinching part of his coat and rubbing it between his fingers. The scratch of wool on his skin was strangely soothing.

“For how long? We may as well give the templars a map to our location if we stay in Ferelden.” He shook his head, radiating irritation and resignation. “We should head for the harbour now.”

“I can’t make you do this for me,” Anders said, reaching out to stroke Nathaniel’s cheek.

“You’re not making me do anything,” Nathaniel said, taking Anders’ wrist and holding it in a loose grasp. “I’m capable of making my own choices, and right now I’m choosing to spend over a month in the middle of the sea with no plausible means of escape should anything happen.”

Anders kissed him, stroking the back of his neck as Nathaniel pulled him closer. They kissed like waves lapping at the beach, separating for only the briefest of moments before coming back together.

“We should really get going,” Nathaniel said, eyes flickering down to Anders’ lips.

Anders licked his lips and nodded. As they resumed walking, he said, “You deserve so much better.”

“Anders,” Nathaniel said, pouring an entire paragraph’s worth of pain into two syllables.

Anders stopped and looked at him.

Nathaniel shook his head. “We’ll talk about it on the ship.”

#

The Farmer’s Regret, named after the results of a drunken deal between a Fereldan pastoralist and an Antivan merchant, was constructed in a way that made potential passengers reconsider the merits of swimming to their destination. The second and third decks appeared to have been added as an afterthought, and one of the sails was so patched that it might have actually been someone’s attempt at quilting. Still, the captain had taken them aboard for a surprisingly small fee with no questions asked, so they couldn’t complain much.

Nathaniel’s steps had taken on the measured, slow quality of a sleepwalker’s as they boarded the boat, and he’d begun answering all questions in grunts or monosyllabic sentences.

Anders closed the cabin door and helped Nathaniel to the hammock, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist as they walked.

"It's not too late for you to go back to Vigil's Keep," Anders said, keeping his voice low and gentle.

Nathaniel shook his head.

The ship rocked, and Nathaniel clutched Anders, burying his face in his hair. Anders rubbed up and down his spine, whispering soothing non-words until Nathaniel's grip on him loosened.

"It won't be that long," Anders said, kissing Nathaniel's neck.

The first three days of the journey saw Nathaniel grow increasingly withdrawn and anxious before giving way to determined normalcy. While any sudden movement from the boat still prompted panic, at least he was able to function most of the time.

On the fifth day, Nathaniel pulled Anders into his lap as they sat in the hammock and said, "I want to talk about something you said."

Anders raised an eyebrow and said, "You know, I think that's one of the most ominous things I've heard, and that's including 'we're only going to take a little of your blood' and 'let's drink this and see what happens.'"

"You said I deserved better."

"You do," Anders said, brushing a strand of hair out of Nathaniel’s face. “You deserve so much better.”

“Better than you?”

Anders opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come to him. He licked his lips, looked away, and shrugged.

Nathaniel took his chin and gently turned Anders’ head to face him. He kissed him and said, “You’re better than you think, and the best I could ever want.”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Anders woke with a start as he was hurled out of the hammock and onto the floor by a particularly large and violent wave. Maybe it was just a rather painful fluke. Nathaniel would wake up in the morning, unaware of the lapse in the sea’s gentleness. His hopes were dashed when the ship pitched again and Nathaniel cried out, sitting up in the hammock. As the waves continued to toss the ship about with increasing force, Anders tottered over to him.

He placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, stroking him with his thumb as Nathaniel struggled to get control of his breathing. Nathaniel had calmed slightly when the ship pitched and sent both of them crumpling to the floor.

Anders crawled over to Nathaniel and pulled him close to his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, running his fingers through Nathaniel’s hair. “We’re going to be all right.”

Nathaniel made a small noise in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Anders. They stayed intertwined until the storm passed, Nathaniel muffling his sounds of distress in Anders’ shoulder as the ship creaked and rocked its way through the tempest. By the time the sea had calmed, Anders had begun reminiscing about their adventures in the Wardens.

“Remember that time we convinced Oghren that apple cider vinegar was still mostly cider? He drank half our supply before the Commander caught us,” Anders said, smiling and squeezing Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Ooh, or what about the time we accidentally summoned a Revenant in the scullery? We had to fight it off with kitchen implements. The cook nearly killed us after that! Or the time Sigrun started a bar brawl over whether or not someone could be especially dead?”

Nathaniel laughed, a small, strained sound. It was a miniscule improvement, but Anders would take it.

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said as the boat resumed its normal motion.

Anders kissed his forehead and said, “Is there anything else I can do?”

Nathaniel smiled. It was shaky, but it was definitely a smile. “Unless you can magically speed up the boat, I’m afraid you’ve done all you can.”

“Let me know if that changes. Please.”

They tentatively made their way back to the hammock and fell asleep intertwined with one another.

#

As if in apology, the sea was almost worryingly calm for the next few days. The waves moved just enough to propel the boat forward like a mother gently ushering her child along, and the sky was a blue so pure that it seemed to be the source of all other shades of blue.

Nathaniel and Anders stood on the main deck, Anders basking in the salty breeze while Nathaniel clutched the rail so hard that Anders half expected the wood to crack.

“Have you forgiven me, then?” Anders said, brushing his hair out of his face. He’d left it out of its ponytail for the day, and the wind was doing a fine job of twisting it together into a collection of knots that he didn’t look forward to untangling later.

“What?” Nathaniel said, glancing away from the water for the shortest of moments before resuming his uneasy study of it.

Anders’ lowered his voice and stepped closer to Nathaniel so as not to be heard by the crew. “For the Chantry. We haven’t talked about it since before we left. Have you forgiven me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You ran away with me, Nate. You abandoned the Grey Wardens for this. You’re on a bloody boat because of me. I think we need to talk about it.”

“What do you want me to say?” Nathaniel snapped, finally turning to face Anders. “That I support your decision to plunge Thedas into war? That I approve of you making mages a bigger target than usual? That I’m happy you were so eager to sacrifice yourself?”

“Then why did you come with me?” Anders said, raising his voice and drawing the attention of some of the crew.

“Because I love you,” Nathaniel said, taking his hands. “And I hope that in time I’ll understand why you did it.”


	13. Chapter 13

Llomerryn smelled of cinnamon, cloves, and oranges. The last was explained by the fact that the dockworkers had just spilled an entire shipment of the fruit, sending half of it into the sea and the other half into the hands of passersby. The streets were filled with peddlers hawking wares that may or may not have been theirs, including some of the runaway oranges.

Anders walked with his arm around Nathaniel’s waist, as much to support him as to remind himself that he wouldn’t be alone in this.

“Want an orange?” he said, gesturing to the ground with his free hand.

Nathaniel smiled. “Already assimilating into the local culture, I see.”

“You know me. Always eager to blend in.”

“Says the man in the feathers.”

“Shut up. They’re fashionable.”

#

They stopped in the nearest inn, a place with more local colour than a landscape done only using a child’s set of fingerpaints. Half the patrons wore so much jewellery that every motion clanked louder than a templar falling down the stairs, and the other half was engaged in a bar brawl. Nathaniel and Anders carefully navigated past the brawl and to the innkeeper, who was taking bets on who would win the brawl.

“Lemme guess, a sovereign on Richard Nicks’em,” he said in a voice like stale bread. “He’s the favourite, but I’d put my money on Medium Dave. He’s scrappy, and he bites.”

“Actually, we’d like a room,” Nathaniel said, shouting to be heard over the din.

“Right. It’s thirty silvers for the first night, and you won’t find a better deal this side of Antiva. One bed?” the innkeeper said, raising an eyebrow and looking down at Anders’ arm, which was still wrapped around Nathaniel’s waist.

Nathaniel nodded, practically challenging him to say something. Anders squeezed his waist just a little more tightly.

The innkeeper shrugged and gestured for them to hand over the money.

“Well,” Anders said as they inspected their new room. To say the decor clashed was an understatement. It was engaged in an all-out war that had probably spanned centuries. “This will be an adventure.”

Nathaniel sat on the bed and patted the space next to him. “An adventure that starts with sleep. Come here.”

Anders nodded and pulled off his boots before joining Nathaniel on the bed. As Nathaniel slung an arm over his shoulders, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Nathaniel said, reclining and gently pulling Anders down with him.

“For… all this. For involving you in my problems. You deserve--” he said before Nathaniel cut him off.

“ _I_ involved myself in this. I asked you to come back to Ferelden with me, and I decided to run away with you. It was my decision, Anders.” Nathaniel stroked his cheek. “We should get some rest. If anything, that’s what I deserve.”

#

“I’ve been thinking,” Nathaniel said when Anders awoke.

“Dear Maker,” Anders said, smiling as Ser Pounce-a-Lot attacked his feet.

“Neither you nor Justice is happy with your current living situation, correct?”

Anders frowned and nodded.

“I’ve heard tales of Rivaini Seers--women who allow spirits to possess them with no harm to them or the spirit. The possession is never permanent. I thought we could ask one for help,” Nathaniel said, turning over to face Anders. “You don’t have to say yes. We don’t know the risks yet, and I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a choice. I just thought I’d offer it as an option.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Anders said. He kissed Nathaniel. “Thank you.”

#

“We don’t have to do this,” Nathaniel said as Anders tried and failed yet again to knock on the door.

“I want to. Justice wants to. It’s just,” Anders trailed off, shaking his head. “Justice gave me a purpose. What if I lose that without him?”

Nathaniel took Anders’ hands. “You’ve always had a purpose, Anders. You didn’t need Justice for that.”

Anders swallowed and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

The door swung open, causing both men to jump. A small woman with long braids and arms entirely covered by bangles raised an eyebrow. “Are you coming in, or did you want to block my door a little longer?”

Heavy clouds of incense filled the parlour, and the carpet was so plush that Anders half expected to sink into it with every step he took.

“If you’re looking for beaded curtains, you’re in the wrong place,” the Seer, Zeia, said. “You said it was business, so I’ll give you business. Two sovereigns up front, and we’ll negotiate the rest after.”

Anders glanced at Nathaniel, who mouthed, “It’s your decision.” Anders took a deep breath and produced the coins.

Zeia rubbed the coins together, smiled, and tucked them away in one of the folds of her skirt. “Right. Your boyfriend tells me you have a bad case of spirit possession. It’s amazing how few questions are bought with two sovereigns, so I’ll just ask this--it’s dangerous, and there’s no going back after this point. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Anders waited for Justice to protest, but the spirit remained quiet in the back of his mind. He nodded.

“Have a seat. This will take a while.”

Nathaniel and Anders sat side by side on the carpet. As Anders began picking at the loose threads on his coat, Nathaniel took one of his hands and squeezed lightly.

“What are you going to do?” Anders said as Zeia rifled through an ornate trunk.

“Normally I’d hit you over the head with a mallet and let you enter the Fade that way to sort out your problems, but a contact on the docks got enough lyrium for me to do it the easy way,” she said, producing a large vial that glowed blue through the fog of incense.

“You have a contact that can get you that much raw lyrium?” Nathaniel said, staring at the vial as though hypnotized.

“When I’m lucky,” Zeia said, walking over to them. “Which is rarely. And you thought I was joking about the mallet.”

Anders took his hand back from Nathaniel and resumed picking at his coat. “Abominations and being sent into the Fade. It’s just like the Circle, only without the persistent smell of cabbage stew.”

“Close your eyes,” Zeia said, preparing the enchantment. “It creeps me out when people stare at me while they’re in the Fade.”

Anders complied, taking slow, measured breaths until he felt himself slip away.


	14. Chapter 14

The ground wobbled as though it were only a thin layer of earth over an ocean, and the air in his lungs seemed to coil and crawl out even as he took breath after breath. As he felt himself lose to the panic that rose out of his stomach and into his mouth, Justice appeared next to him.

“Anders,” he said, and the ground shook like a plate of jelly.

Anders turned to look at him and nodded. When the panic had ebbed away, he said, “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to help. I thought I could save you, but I’ve only hurt us both. You would have been better off without me.”

Justice’s posture stiffened further. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from far away. “I should not have asked you to merge with me.”

Anders shook his head. “It was my mistake. I can’t believe I thought I could help you.”

“You did help.”

“I helped corrupt you. We’ve lost ourselves to this, and there’s nothing we can do to change that.”

“Do you think so little of yourself?” Justice said, stepping closer. “I would not have suggested merging with you if I did not think you worthy. But I will admit that my motives were not entirely pure. I had grown accustomed to life outside of the Fade, and I feared what would become of me when Kristoff’s body rotted away. I used you. It was unjust.”

“You didn’t--you gave me a purpose,” he said, looking down. “I was nothing--am nothing--without you.”

“You are Anders,” Justice said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “That is all you ever needed to be.”

“Then I guess… I guess we should separate,” Anders said, raising his chin. “Will you be all right?”

“I believe so,” Justice said, removing his hand from Anders’ shoulder and taking a step back. “Thank you, Anders. You have been a good friend. I will look for you in the Fade.”

Anders swallowed, and it felt as if a part of him was slowly, gently being burned away. When he opened his eyes, he was himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

“How do you feel?” Nathaniel said, leaning over him and holding his hand.

Anders tried to smile, dried tears cracking on his cheeks as he did so. “I think I just got dumped by a spirit.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Anders, come to bed,” Nathaniel said, yawning into his elbow. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“I haven’t had my head to myself in nearly a decade,” Anders said, perching on the edge of the bed. “I want to enjoy it.”

Nathaniel scooted over and wrapped his arms around Anders. “You’ll have the rest of your life to enjoy it. And if the shadows under your eyes are any indication, the first step to enjoying it might be getting a good night’s rest.”

Anders smiled and let Nathaniel pull him fully onto the bed, crawling under the blanket and snuggling close to Nathaniel once they’d reached the pillows. Nathaniel snuffed the candle, and they fell asleep.

At least, that was the plan. The moment he closed his eyes, it was like every corner of his mind lit up at once. Energy surged down his spine and out through his digits until he could barely keep still, let alone sleep. The tighter he squeezed his eyes shut, the more sleep eluded him. His thoughts raced as though he were flipping through the pages of a book, leaving only the impression of ideas rather than ideas themselves. In the end, he settled for attempting to lie still until Nathaniel awoke.

The moment Nathaniel opened his eyes, Anders was upon him, kissing every inch of his face and neck with a sort of joyful desperation.

In between kisses, Nathaniel managed to say, “Should I expect to wake up to this from now on?”

“I’m just,” Anders paused to kiss him again. “I’m happy to be with you. I don’t think I ever told you that. You’re amazing. I don’t know _Howe_ I got so lucky.”

Nathaniel blinked. “You didn’t just--”

Anders grinned and laughed at his own joke. “Come on, that was great. We’re both so amazing. No wonder we wound up together.”

“You’re… really feeling better, aren’t you?” Nathaniel said, raising his eyebrows. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Anders shrugged. “I slept.”

“Anders…”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m fine. Maybe I should cut my hair.”

“Why don’t you wait until you’ve calmed down a little?” Nathaniel said, sitting up and taking Anders’ hands. “Is there anything else you’d like to do?”

Anders wrapped his arms around Nathaniel’s neck and kissed him, climbing into his lap and taking only the smallest pause for breath before resuming the kiss with renewed intensity. Nathaniel placed his hands on Anders’ shoulders and gently pushed him back an inch.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Anders tried to move forward to kiss Nathaniel again, but he was stopped.

“You were just separated from Justice after eight years of being together. You’re taking it surprisingly well,” Nathaniel said, rubbing Anders’ shoulders with his thumbs.

“Should I take it less well?”

“No. I just,” Nathaniel paused and sighed through his nose. “I worry about you sometimes.”

“Well, don’t,” Anders said, taking Nathaniel’s hands and guiding them to his hips. “I’m clearly fine. Can we go back to kissing now?”

Nathaniel squeezed Anders’ hips and nodded with a faint smile. Anders grinned and leaned forward, nearly bumping noses with Nathaniel in his enthusiasm. Nathaniel moved a hand to the small of his back, pressing gently as they kissed.

Even as he attempted to pour his energy into his actions, it soared to new heights. He found himself clutching Nathaniel until he made a noise of protest in between kisses. Anders settled for threading his fingers in Nathaniel’s hair and twisting it, each second of physical contact increasing his frantic desire for more. Every nerve burned until he had to choose between scratching himself raw or letting Nathaniel scratch a more metaphorical itch.

He climbed off Nathaniel’s lap, pulling him along until Nathaniel was on top of him. He wrapped a leg around Nathaniel and gasped as Nathaniel ground against him.

“Please, Nate,” he said, only half-aware of the desperation in his voice. “I need--”

Nathaniel smiled and kissed him before pulling away enough to tug off their smalls, pressing a kiss to Anders’ hip as he did so. Anders arched his back and gently took Nathaniel’s dick, summoning a quick grease spell before letting go.

A small crease formed between Nathaniel’s eyebrows. “Anders, don’t you want--”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, voice breathy and with a slight edge to it. “Trust me.”

Nathaniel kissed him again, all gentleness that quickly gave way to impatience. “I do.”

Slowly, almost torturously so, Nathaniel pushed in, stopping every so often for Anders to adjust. Anders clutched at his back, lifting his hips to meet each thrust until Nathaniel picked up the pace. Even as he cried for more and was granted it, it ceased to be enough. With each motion, the frenzied spinning of his mind calmed, his thoughts almost slowing to a normal pace. Nathaniel pressed his mouth to the spot just below Anders’ jaw, sucking as Anders gasped and sent a small burst of electricity down his spine.

“Do you feel better?” Nathaniel said, still draped on top of him.

Anders ran his fingers through Nathaniel’s hair and down the nape of his neck. He could feel his mind gaining speed once more, his thoughts flying as though they were papers blown about by a hurricane. He shifted, almost sitting up before he decided against it. “I’m great. Better than great. Are there any bookshops nearby?”

Nathaniel lifted his head from Anders’ chest and looked him in the eye, the corners of his mouth slightly tense. “We could look for one, if you want.”

“Let’s do that,” he said, kissing Nathaniel’s forehead. “You’re the best.”

#

“I get the feeling owning some of these books might be illegal,” Nathaniel said, eyeing a tome that appeared to be written in some type of blood. He glanced over at Anders and his quickly growing pile of books, all of which concerned a particular Orlesian painter obsessed with dancers and the colour blue. “Are you sure we can afford all of those?”

Anders blinked, waiting for Nathaniel’s words to organise themselves into something that made sense. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“It’s a lot of books. We need to save money for food and lodging, and neither of us has a job right now,” Nathaniel said, picking up one of the books and flipping through it. “If we haggle, we might be able to get half of these. Would that work?”

The disappointment passed through Anders’ mind like a summer storm, a brief deluge that soon gave way to sunniness. He shrugged. “Works for me. We have to get this one. Look at his use of yellows in this painting!”

Nathaniel made a vague noise of appreciation and set the book aside in what soon became the “to buy” pile.

That night, Anders stayed up perusing the three books they’d been able to buy, half-formed but nonetheless luminous ideas of painting their room dancing through his head in a frenzied waltz.

By the time Nathaniel woke up, Anders had sketched some rough ideas for the paintings and made an extensive list of the supplies he’d need for his new undertaking. It had started with paints and brushes, but soon he realised the vital importance of music as inspiration to visual artists, so it was absolutely necessary that he acquire a lute and proper lessons. And it would be dismal to learn music in such a barren room, so he’d have to start a small garden. Of course, a garden needed proper decor, which would have to be coordinated with the paintings. And then--

“You haven’t slept, have you?” Nathaniel said, breaking Anders’ concentration.

“I’ll sleep,” he said, scribbling out another sketch for the paintings.

“When?”

“Later?” Anders said, smiling hopefully at Nathaniel. “When I’m tired. I have so much to do, Nate. I can’t sleep now.”

“Could you try? For me?” Nathaniel said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I have some sleeping draughts in my pack. Why don’t you take one? You’ll have more energy after you’ve slept.”

Anders frowned but said, “If it will make you happy.”

“Overjoyed,” Nathaniel said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll get it for you.”

Anders drank the potion, grimacing at the overly sweet combination of herbs and spices. It must have been a particularly potent batch, because his eyelids grew heavy mere seconds after he finished the potion.

Nathaniel kissed him. “You’ll feel better after you sleep, I promise.”

As Anders fell asleep with the taste of the draught and Nathaniel’s kiss on his lips, he thought that perhaps sleep wouldn’t be so bad. 


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" Nathaniel said as Anders offered a leaflet to yet another passerby.

“We’re in neutral territory. I doubt anyone’s going to turn me over for disseminating a few pieces of paper,” Anders said without turning away from the street.

“Just because we’re in neutral territory doesn’t mean that we can do whatever we please. I’m not about to murder someone because Llomerryn’s not connected to international politics,” Nathaniel said, stepping into Anders’ line of vision.

“Nobody said anything about murder,” Anders said, rolling his eyes. “But Rivain’s practically a magocracy. If anyone’s willing to join the cause, we’ll find them here.”

“People will be looking for you. Political neutrality isn’t going to stop them from turning you over for a bounty, and I don’t think you should make yourself so visible so soon after the incident,” he said, taking Anders’ wrist.

Anders frowned. “The oppression of mages won’t stop because I destroyed one building. I can’t stop fighting for them now, not after everything I’ve done. Can’t you see how important this is?”

“Not as important as you,” Nathaniel said, squeezing Anders’ wrist.

Anders tugged his wrist free of Nathaniel’s grasp, still frowning. He shook his head. “I have to do this.”

“Then do it safely. Quietly. Weren’t you part of a mage underground in Kirkwall? Do that,” Nathaniel said, and his voice had taken on an edge of desperation.

“It won’t be enough,” he said, reaching around Nathaniel to hand out another leaflet.

“When will it be? When you’ve died of exhaustion? When the templars catch you again? Where do you draw the line, Anders?” The edge of desperation had hardened into a serrated blade, and each word left a wound.

Anders pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I have to do this.”

“Is that all you can say to defend this?” Nathaniel said, moving to take Anders’ wrists once more.

Anders jerked his arms out of Nathaniel’s reach. “It’s the truth. And if you can’t understand how necessary this is, maybe we should take a break.”

“Anders--”

“Do you mind?” Anders said, the words just barely squeezing past the lump that had formed in his throat. “I’m trying to work.”

#

When he arrived at the inn that night, Nathaniel and his things were gone. He wished he could have been surprised. Of course Nathaniel had left. He’d told him to do as much, after all. But what could Nathaniel expect? It was a matter of life and death, and he refused to quietly disappear into the background, providing only nominal help for those in need. This was necessary. This was right. This was… the reason he’d ruined the best relationship he’d had in years.

Anders collapsed on the bed, lying on his side and drawing his legs up to his chest. Ser Pounce-a-Lot curled up next to his head and began purring, the sound lulling Anders to sleep.

“Anders.”

He recognised Justice’s voice without needing to turn around, but he did so anyway.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said with only the slightest attempt at cheer. “How’s the Fade treating you?”

“It is… both familiar and strange. I had forgotten what it was like to walk the Fade as an inhabitant, and not a visitor,” Justice said, sounding slightly pensive. “How are you?”

Anders shrugged. “I’m adjusting. I’ve taken up the cause again.”

Justice nodded. “You will do well. How is Nathaniel?”

“He’s fine,” Anders said as the ground slid beneath his feet. “Just fine. We’re fine.”

He must have imagined it, but Anders almost thought that Justice looked dubious. _Impossible.  He’s wearing a bloody helmet._

“You are treating each other well?”

The ground slid more violently this time, and Anders fell to his knees. “Does it matter?”

Justice offered him a hand and helped him up. “More than you can imagine.”

Anders looked away. “We broke up, all right? I ended it.”

“My condolences.”

“It was for the best,” Anders said, not believing a syllable of what he said. “I should… I should go.”

“It was good seeing you again, Anders. I hope we meet again soon,” Justice said, his voice growing fainter as the Fade slipped away.

Anders woke, and he felt worse than if he hadn’t slept at all. He stayed lying down for a little while longer before forcing himself into an upright position.

He’d collapsed on Nathaniel’s side of the bed. He turned and pressed his face to the pillow; it still smelled faintly of him. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Anders hadn’t realised just how much he’d lost track of time until he stepped out of the inn and was greeted with the sounds, sights, and smells of a festival. Ever since he and Nathaniel had separated, his life had become a cycle of handing out fliers, organising meetings, and sleeping as little as he could. He’d heard about the Allsmet that took place at this time of year in Dairsmud--Llomerryn must have adopted some similar festival.

Someone pressed a glass of mulled rum punch into his hand as he began weaving his way through the crowd, taking care to avoid the brawl that had broken out just to the left of him. He found a relatively unoccupied spot near a fruit vendor and took a sip of his drink. It tasted of apples and cinnamon, with just enough bite to make the alcohol content apparent.

Next to the brawl, so close it could almost be considered part of it, a small group of people began dancing as a busker played a jaunty, lilting tune on her flute. As the summer wind carried the scents of spices and the ocean through the streets, Anders could almost forget his troubles and enjoy the moment. Almost.

All hopes of properly immersing himself in the festivities vanished when he saw Nathaniel just across the street. Their eyes met, and Nathaniel was in front of him before he had time to properly process what was going on.

“Nate,” he said, pouring as much love and frustration into that syllable as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said, reaching out towards Anders’ face before stopping himself. “I know how much the cause means to you. I should have been more understanding.”

“No, you were right,” Anders said, and he was amazed at how much he believed it. “I should be more careful. We’re running out of hiding places, and I can’t afford to be reckless anymore.”

Nathaniel smiled. “Am I forgiven, then?”

“Am I?”

Nathaniel pulled Anders into a kiss, pressing a hand to the small of his back and dipping him slightly as he tangled his other hand in his hair. Anders dropped his glass in surprise, lifting his right foot a few inches from the ground as he was dipped lower. They kissed until the world around them faded away, until all that remained was reconciliation in the form of grasping hands and swollen lips.

“I guess that answers my question,” Anders said after they’d separated. And then he smiled and kissed him again, and it was easy to forget he’d ever needed to ask in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's stuck around till the end of this fic! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I appreciate all the comments and kudos. You're all wonderful. C:


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